


Face the Bad Things

by Musyc



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: 8th year, Community: dmhgficexchange, Draco Malfoy - character, F/M, Hermione Granger - character, Hogwarts, Post-War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-19
Updated: 2010-03-19
Packaged: 2017-10-08 03:23:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/72169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Musyc/pseuds/Musyc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>But if you wanna leave, take good care<br/>Hope you make a lot of nice friends out there<br/>But just remember there's a lot of bad and beware<br/>(Cat Stevens, Wild World)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Face the Bad Things

_You knew all along this would end. This was just for one year, just for this year. This was never a long term deal, Draco. We agreed to that._

Just for one year, just for that last year. That final year when a handful of student returned to Hogwarts to finish the educations that the war had put on hold. Most of the Gryffindors, all of the Ravenclaws, a sprinkling of Hufflepuffs.

And him.

One Slytherin. One lone Slytherin.

One lonely Slytherin.

He slept in an empty dorm room, with four-postered, canopied beds full of nothing but the dust of his dreams. He took his classes in silence, walked through the corridors in a quiet no one dared to interrupt. No one spoke to him except a few professors. No one dared. The truth had come out at the end of the war, the truth about his family, about his mission, and while plenty of people understood his reasons, very few accepted them.

Only one accepted him, and she was the last person who should have.

Hermione Granger, possibly the most infamous Muggle-born to walk the halls of Hogwarts, Harry Potter's best friend, the heroine of the war. She accepted him, and he wanted to hate her for it. Wanted to hate her for what felt like pity, wanted to hate her for what sounded like a patronizing form of compassion, but he was lonely.

_So_ lonely. In sixth year, he'd drifted through days and months with only a ghost to share his burdens. In eighth year, he remembered that pain, and refused to drift, refused to fade. Hermione spoke to him when no one would meet his eyes. Hermione shared his table in classes when no one would partner him for projects. Hermione made a space for him at the Gryffindor table for meals in the Great Hall, and when her housemates and friends finally told her that they didn't want him there, she ripped into them with a voice that shook the stones of the castle, then she and he made their own space at the end of the sparsely populated Slytherin benches.

They made a tentative acquaintance at first, talking over innocuous, safe topics. No mention of the war, no mention of families. Never a word about the black stain in his forearm. They talked about the latest Weird Sisters song on the Wireless, talked about the letters in the advice columns of the _Prophet_, talked about the new fashions at Malkins or the new sweets at Honeydukes. She couldn't stop giggling over the tribulations of a wizard who wrote in to the paper twice a week about the hedgehogs in his garden; he couldn't stop laughing over the faces she made every time he rambled on about blood pops.

He wasn't sure when acquaintance became friendship, wasn't certain when she'd started waiting for him after every class, wasn't certain when he'd started waiting for her for the weekend walks to Hogsmeade. Nothing made much sense to him about it all, but he grasped onto it like it was a dream trying to slip away in the dawn. He grasped onto the sense of _her_. They made acquaintance and then they made friends, and then on a cold night, late past curfew, he put his arm around her while they watched the stars for Astronomy.

She stiffened. She turned her head to look up at his tense expression, the taut line of his jaw, the muscle that jumped in his cheek.

He forgot how to breathe, waiting.

She leaned into him, put her head on his shoulder, put her arm around his waist.

He forgot about the stars.

_This is just for this year, Draco. Just until the end. We can't let it go any further, and you know that. We both know that. Just for this year, just for now. Just for us._

He kissed her in a deserted corridor under the castle. She pulled away and stared at him, her eyes wide, her fingers pressed to her mouth. Draco's chest ached as he waited, and after a long minute, two long minutes?

Too long.

He turned around and walked away, silently cursing himself for the brief spot of courage that had led him to be such an idiot. Of course it had been stupid, of course it had been too much. Of course he'd ruined it all and fucked it up again. That seemed to be the only skill he had these days.

Lost in his recriminations, feeling a hot sting against his eyelids, he didn't hear the footsteps that ran up behind him, didn't hear her calling his name. Nothing caught his attention until she grabbed his arm and spun him around and pushed him against the wall. It was Draco's turn to stare with wide, nervous eyes, and it was Hermione's turn to kiss. She went up on her toes, flung her arms around his neck, and kissed him. It was awkward, and wet, and their teeth knocked together. Their noses got in the way, he pulled her hair, and she trod on his toes, but it was the best kiss he could have imagined, if he'd ever dared to imagine.

Right up to that moment, he'd never dared.

Until she kissed him again the next night, he thought he'd been dreaming. The night after that, the kiss after that, he hoped he'd never wake up. Her body was warm and soft in his arms; her mouth was soft and warm against his. The kissed in the corridors, kissed in the stairwells, kissed in the greenhouse and in empty classrooms. Each kiss went longer, went deeper, went further.

She let him touch her breasts, over her shirt, then under it, and shuddered when he brushed his thumb over her stiffened nipples. He let her slip her fingers beneath the waistband of his trousers, and shivered when her nails scratched over his hips to the root of his hardening cock.

They explored, experimented, experienced. She lost her virginity, he lost his heart, and a month before school ended, he told her that he loved her.

_We agreed, Draco. We agreed it would end. This was just for us, just for now. Not for later, not for future. You don't want more. You don't want me. You'll want this to end, you'll want me to go. I said I'd leave before that happened._

The leaving feast was the next week, and Draco hadn't spoken to her in days. He stalked the halls, anger swirling around him thicker than his robes, his eyes the color of steel with his frustration and fear. He found her in the library, curled up in a study cubicle with a stack of books taller than her chair. One flick of his wand put up a distraction charm to keep them unseen. A second flick put up a muffling charm to keep them unheard.

He wished there was a charm to keep him unhurt. "Granger," he said, her name in a murmur that was almost inaudible, and she kept her eyes locked on her book.

"I know why you're here." Her voice sounded thick and as he stepped closer, she swiped the heel of her hand across her cheek. "There's nothing to talk about, Draco. We knew this would come, eventually. Don't ... don't do this to me. Just let it go. Let me go."

Draco folded his arms and leaned against the wall of the cubicle, his eyes lowered to the shiny dragonhide of his black shoes. "If that's really what you want, I'll do it. If you really want to leave, I'll let you. I'll wish you well, wish you wealth and happiness and love and all that other rubbish. Make a lot of nice friends, buy a lot of nice clothes, and take nothing away from this year except your NEWTs. If that's what you really, _really_ want, have at it."

She sniffled and rubbed her eyes, but stayed silent.

"I don't think that's what you want, though. I've heard people talking. I've heard about the crying, the upsets. I've heard that you won't talk to anyone in your dorm. I've seen you back at the Gryffindor table with your hair in a mess and your eyes red. I've heard it all, Granger. I've seen it. You know, for a Gryffindor, you're a bit of a coward."

She made a sharp noise and slammed her book closed. Draco continued, relentless. "We were having fun, weren't we? We were having a good time. But it wasn't _just_ a good time. Not for me, and not for you. It was getting to be more than that, and you got scared. You freaked, and you ran." He shrugged one shoulder and stared at the curls covering her forehead. "Not like I don't understand how that feels, but believe me, it never ends well. There's a lot of bad things out there and you can't run from them all."

"Shut up," she muttered, her hands coming up to cover her face. "Shut up, Draco. Just stop. _Stop_."

"We had fun. We had more than fun. We had _something_, and you're going to let it go because you're frightened. We agreed it would just be this year, but let me tell you something. I agreed to that only because I knew you'd change your mind." Draco grabbed her wrists and hauled her to her feet, yanking her up against his chest. "I saw it in your eyes, Granger. I saw it every time we kissed, every time we met in private, every time you arched up and writhed under me. I saw that you wanted more, and I have been willing, all along, to give it to you. I am willing to give you exactly what you want."

Tears spilled down Hermione's cheeks, and she kept her eyes squeezed closed as if she could stop them from willpower alone. "I don't know what I want," she whispered.

Draco tipped her chin up and he kissed her. Her mouth stayed shut, and he kissed her regardless. He kissed her until her lips parted with a sigh, until her tongue brushed his. One of her hands drifted up to cradle the back of his neck, one pushed into his robes and wrapped around his tie. She sighed again, she murmured words that were more like pure sounds, she toyed at the buttons on his shirt. Draco kissed her, longer, deeper, until she melted against him and he felt the tension ease out of her body.

He settled his hands on her waist as he turned them in place, and he picked her up. He set her on the desk and opened her robes, stepped closer to stand between her knees with her skirt rucked up her thighs. Neither of them spoke.

Neither of them needed to.

Hermione pushed Draco's robes open and undid his belt. Draco pushed Hermione's robes off her shoulders and unbuttoned her shirt. Her hands delved into his trousers as he bent to suck at her neck. He found the sensitive hollow below her ear and he mouthed it as she pushed his trousers open and lifted his cock free of the material. Hermione stroked, and Draco shuddered. He moved closer, his hands sliding up her thighs to shove her skirt to her hips. Under it, she was bare, and he cupped her hot cunt in his palm. Hermione's legs widened to give him access, and he slipped his fingers into her.

They both moaned; they both moved. Hermione leaned back and Draco pressed forward, and Hermione's head dropped back to expose her taut throat as he guided his cock home. "You want me," he murmured, setting up a slow rhythm that he knew drove her mad. "You want me, you want _us_. Why push me away?"

He wrapped his hands around her back and lifted her up as she locked her legs around his hips. He kissed her, tongue sliding into her mouth in counterpoint to his thrusts. Draco dragged his teeth across her lip and she whimpered. "I don't know," she said in a whisper. "Because this shouldn't be? Because we shouldn't be together? Because this is something everyone will fight against?"

"When have you ever let that stop you?" He nipped at her mouth, kissed beneath her ear, nuzzles into her throat. "You're the fighter, Hermione. You never let someone else tell you what to do when you believe. When you truly believe, _you_ do the fighting. When you truly think its worth it...." He had to cut off the sentence before he could finish it, afraid he'd say why he was afraid. He feared she didn't think _he_ was worth it.

He didn't need to speak, didn't need to confess. Hermione was, as always, clever. She threaded her fingers through his hair and lifted his head to kiss him again. "You're worth it," she whispered. "I believe. But it's hard. It's so hard, Draco."

"There's a lot of bad things out there," he said. He pushed into her, ground his hips to rub against her clit until she writhed in his arms, her nails clawing at the back of his neck. "Don't face them alone." _Don't leave me to face them alone._

She locked her legs around his hips and pulled him in deeper, and she kissed him hard. He tasted salt and realized she was crying, and he held her close as he slowed his thrusts. "I don't know," she said through her tears. "I don't know."

"Give it time," he told her, his hands smoothing across her back. "Give me a chance. Please, Hermione. I'll give you what you want."

_Just for now, just for us. Maybe for the future, too. Maybe it doesn't have to end. There's a lot of bad things out there, Draco. Can we face them together?_


End file.
